


Second Chances Times Two

by ro_mm_ck



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Community: Sweet Charity, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-10
Updated: 2008-01-03
Packaged: 2017-10-11 18:53:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/115796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ro_mm_ck/pseuds/ro_mm_ck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione goes to St. Mungo's after the war to help bring Gilderoy back into the wizarding world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pesha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pesha/gifts).



> This is a LONG time coming. It was written for pesha for Sweet Charity. She's been gracious enough to give me some more time to finish it. Thanks to ifuwereafrog and zeta0497 for the betas.

He had finally managed to get the bed next to the window. He liked the way the sun shone through the windows to light up his golden hair. There were times he found himself posing in front of its transparent panes to feel the rays illuminate him from behind. Gilderoy might not remember who he was in his other life, but he still knew he was pretty.

There were still witches and wizards who sent him correspondence and he took the time to answer every letter. He would send them autographed pictures with the new signature he'd decided on. He'd sat at a desk in the patients lounge and tried every variation until he came upon one he liked. With great looping letters, he signed each letter, the "G" in his first name actually locking with the "L" in his last. He'd thought that was clever.

Several months ago, a package arrived with a pile of books written by him before his accident. There was no card or letter inside, but he'd known they'd come from a woman. No wizard would send him copies of his own works. He may have lost his memory, but he hadn't lost his mind. He opened the box and smiled at the images of himself smiling back.

The nurses hadn't wanted him to read through his books for some reason. They thought it might cause him to backslide in his recovery. He laughed at the word recovery as nothing had changed since he'd been transferred to the memory loss wing. There was no way for him to forget more than he already had and he had no wand so it wasn't like he was going to do any damage to himself or others.

They'd explained to him about magic and told him that one day he might be able to perform spells again. Training. He'd asked for it several times, but he could tell by the look in his mediwitch's eye it wasn't going to happen any time soon.

Sitting in the middle of his bed, his robes laid out next to him, Gilderoy picked up the first book in the pile, "Magical Me." He didn't completely understand how amnesia worked, certain things stayed, like his ability to read and speak and things like that. He'd lost his knowledge of magic, but he still instinctively knew how to wandlessly style his hair. When the evening shift showed up for rounds, he was still engrossed in his own adventures. He hadn't left his bed but he managed to look fresh and pressed even still.

The quiet elderly mediwitch who usually worked this shift must have been out sick because a new person entered the ward. Doris, the dark-haired, quick witted, no-nonsense witch who ran things in this wing walked next to her as they approached him. "This is Gilderoy."

"Yes, I know," the young witch said as she made a note on a clipboard she carried.

"Gilderoy, this is Ms. Granger. She will be working in our ward for the next few weeks," she said curtly. It wasn't that she was rude; it was more that she felt no need to waste words or time on anyone. "Hermione, I leave my patients in your hands. Should you have any questions, please contact Dr. Tertell in the next ward."

Hermione made another note on her clipboard and looked up to see Doris already walking out of the room. By the time she'd set her things on the bed across from Gilderoy, the other mediwitch was already on her way home. Sitting down to appraise her patient, Hermione realized this wasn't the same man she'd idolized as a wet behind the ears second year at Hogwarts. He was still stunning to look at and it appeared he was still very aware of it.

"So, Mr. Lockhart," she began, using his last name to distance herself from what she knew about him. "Any change in your symptoms?"

In the short exchange with Doris and Hermione, Gilderoy had tucked his book back into the box. He'd arranged his robes and moved to the edge of his bed. He knew that attention would return to him and he needed to look his best.

"None whatsoever, I'm afraid," he replied in a sugary tone that would have been irritating on anyone else. Hermione knew this tone was simply his personality. Despite what Ron and Harry had informed her about the business in the Chamber of Secrets, there was still something about him. She couldn't quite place it, but he was just so lovely to look at. With his usual self-centered tendencies mostly gone, he was even more attractive than she'd found him when she was twelve. There was something about being able to save someone and at the same time she figured he didn't need saving.

"Are you still able to do magic?" she asked, continuing to make notes on her paper as she ran through a series of thoughts, each more impure than the last.

"Some wandless beauty charms I've been told," he admitted with a dazzling smile. "I am not permitted a wand so I'm unsure as to what else I could master should I be allowed training."

"Training?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow before making further notes.

"I would like to become a part of the wizarding world eventually," he explained, tucking the hair that had fallen into his eye behind his ear. His hair had become quite long during his several years, and he hadn't the heart to cut it. It was so long and lovely.

Hermione watched him with a scrutinizing look on her face. She could see none of the maliciousness Harry and Ron had described but she knew better than to trust her eyes. "You're reading your books, I see."

"Yes. Someone sent them to me," he glowed. "I think it was an old fan of mine. They're simply fascinating. I can't believe I was able to do all of those things. I'm not even through the first book."

"It must be interesting to go through your memories like that," Hermione said with a blank expression.

"I've had an interesting life, I think," he said, puzzled by her reaction.

"Still no recovery of your memories?" she asked, putting her clipboard down on the bed and regarding him quizzically.

"Nothing like what's in here," he admitted sadly. He held the book up and flipped through its pages as if searching for the key to unlocking his past.

The small grimace that crossed his face was enough to tell Hermione he was harmless. "I think we should start training you," she said finally.

"Really?" he asked, his eyes lighting up in a way that made her heart beat faster in her chest.

"You're not in need of medical treatment any longer. You should have started on therapy several years ago," she admitted.

"Why didn't they allow me, I wonder?" he asked, standing from his bed to unconsciously pose in front of the setting sun.

"It's time you knew the truth about who you were," Hermione said calmly. "We'll start on that tomorrow. For tonight, read through those and let me know if they spark anything."

"Of course," he agreed excitedly. Sitting back on his bed, he picked up the book he'd abandoned and opened it to where he'd left off. "You will be returning then?"

"I'll be here until you're ready to leave," she answered.

"Lovely," he said, smiling into his book as she stood to leave.

~*~

When she returned the next day, he wasn't sitting reading in his bed. He'd set up a desk and two chairs for them to work at and he looked optimistically at her. "Miss Granger," he said warmly. "It is so nice to see you again."

"Thank you, Mr. Lockhart," she said, walking past the rows of empty beds to take the seat across from him. "Shall we get started?"

"Absolutely. I'm eager to learn from you, though I must say you're very young to be doing this kind of work, aren't you?" he asked honestly.

"I'm twenty-eight," she answered. "I've two degrees in medicinal magic: one in the treatment of dark magic and the other in spell damage on the mind. I'm the most qualified person for this job, Mr. Lockhart. My age has nothing to do with my abilities."

"I did not mean to insult you, Miss Granger," he said quickly. "I simply meant to say that one so young and beautiful should not be cooped up in a hospital all day and night."

Hermione knew he was trying to pay her a compliment but she couldn't help but feel as though he were talking about himself instead of her. She rolled her eyes and unpacked the books she'd brought with her. They were mostly full of basic spells, but he would need to start small if they were going to do this right.

"Right," she said, ignoring his comment. "Do you want to start with basic charms?"

"I thought you were going to tell me about who I was," he said.

"We'll get to that," she promised. "We need to get through some basic information first."

Gilderoy didn't seem convinced in the least. "I don't see anything more basic than who a person actually is. The people here refuse to inform me of anything beyond my public persona. If you're in a position to provide me with more information, I insist we start with that."

Hermione was torn between knowing who he'd been and shaping who he could become. There was something about his tone, something new and more... forceful than she'd remembered. No. Not forceful, his voice was more, if you could believe it, confident than it had been.

She sat down and began to tell him what she remembered of the year he taught at Hogwarts as well as what Harry and Ron had relayed to her. Gilderoy sat and listened without comment until she finished. When she stood up from her chair to stretch, she looked at him. Crestfallen, his shoulders slumped; he looked like she had never seen him.

"I was a criminal?" he finally asked.

"I suppose you were, in a manner of speaking," she replied with no excuses.

"Why would you ever want to help me after all I did to your friends?"

"Because everyone deserves a second chance, Mr. Lockhart," she said, sitting in front of the desk and smiling calmly at him.

"If what you say is true," he said, still ruffled. "I don't think I deserve a second chance. Maybe they were right to keep me away from a wand."

"Well, why don't you let me decide that?" she said, hands on her hips with her patented glare on her face. It was the look that even made the Minister of Magic nervous, and Gilderoy was no exception to its powers. He sat up straighter and gave her his undivided attention. It had taken nearly an hour to get through what she knew of his story and she needed a bit of a break from the stress of it. "Would you like to take a walk with me?" she finally asked.

"We're not getting to work, then?" he asked.

"I need to clear my head a bit, and we can talk about what you'd like to start with," she replied. Standing, she picked up her cloak and put it over her shoulders. "It's unseasonably cool outside, but I think some fresh air will do you good."

~*~

It was interesting walking with Gilderoy. His absence from the magical community made him no less charismatic or easy to talk to. Losing his memories and her stories from Hogwarts had taken the wind from his sails and knocked him down a few pegs. Something about the humility was very attractive to Hermione. His natural charm was enhanced by a beauty that had not lessened over the years. His stride was unsure and yet confident and she was certain he was trying to show her he'd changed.

"Why don't we get back to work?" she suggested, giving them both a purpose. He held the door for her and followed her back into the ward. She couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corners of her lips. This was certainly going to be an interesting few weeks.

~*~

It had taken almost no time at all before Gilderoy was performing complex spells and charms. He'd told Ron and Harry once that his talent lay in memory charms and she was waiting until he mastered everything else before letting him move into that area of study. He never asked her about them, her stories of the past warning him of the possible pitfalls. After casting a perfectly corporeal patronus, she decided to start the lesson they'd both been dreading. His doctors thought it wasn't something he needed to learn, but Hermione had disagreed. She was in charge of his healing now and her war hero status allowed for a certain amount of power in the things she chose to fight for.

"I think you're ready."

"What for?" he asked, still sitting on his bed reading the book she'd given him the night before. He didn't look her in the face, leading her to believe he knew exactly what she was talking about. In the weeks that had stretched into months she'd come to understand his expressions with an almost clairvoyant accuracy.

Standing with her hands on her hips, Hermione stared down at him until he looked up from his book into her face. It was amazing how much she'd gotten used to seeing those blue eyes every day. The stern look she'd been sporting dissolved from her face when she saw fear looking back at her.

"You're ready to learn the rest, Gilderoy," she said calmly, hoping her tone would help to quiet his worry. As if detached from the rest of her body, her hand rose and touched his cheek. When the nerves in her fingers finally reached her brain, she pulled her hand back and stepped away from him.

It wasn't the first time she'd had the impulse, but it was the first time she'd followed it. Biologically, she may be an adult but suddenly she was Flooded with the feelings of being a teenager in Hogwarts again. Her fingertips tingled with awareness of where they'd just been; the rest of her body reacted as if the touch had been much more intimate. She closed her eyes for a moment to regain her composure. When she opened them and looked up he stood in front of her with a look she'd never seen.

"I thought it was just me," he said, his hand mimicking the path she'd taken on his face. The breath she didn't know she'd trapped in her chest released and took with it some of the worry she'd been carrying. She felt his fingers on her skin as his smile heated her face with a blush.

When the door of the ward banged open, she was a breath away from cursing whoever had stopped the moment. Looking at the door, she found herself right in front of Doris. At this moment, she was so grateful for the training that being friends with Harry and Ron had provided her. Thinking quickly on her feet was something she'd perfected since that first incident with the troll in the bathroom.

"You'll have to try harder than that, Mr. Lockhart," Hermione said smoothly.

Gilderoy looked at her with a confused expression which played into her plan perfectly. She smiled and turned back to him pulling her wand from her pocket. Disregarding the other mediwitch's presence she continued on as if they'd been interrupted in the middle of a lesson.

"You have to mean this spell," she instructed. "If you want to bottle a memory, even a recent one, there has to be quite a bit of direction behind it." Conjuring a glass tube and stopper, Hermione performed a series of complicated wand movements and the familiar glow of strands of memory slid into the tube after a few moments. "See?" she said, holding up the result of her spell.

"I guess I just wasn't trying hard enough," he answered finally.

"Can we help you, ma'am?" Hermione asked, dragging her wand from the tube to her temple, replacing the memories she'd removed.

"You told me to fetch you at eight, Ms. Granger," Doris said with an expression that lead the both of them to believe she'd bought the whole thing but was going to keep her eyes on them regardless. "Something about an appointment you couldn't be late for."

"Oh yes," Hermione said, turning to gather her things as she realized she'd let time slip away from her. "Thank you so much, Doris. I'm sorry, Mr. Lockhart. I'll have to cut our training short today."

"That's quite all right, Miss Granger," Gilderoy said without hesitation. "I trust I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yes," she said, trying to figure out a way extract the weirdness from this situation before she had to leave. Looking at her watch, she saw she only had a few minutes to get to the Floo before she would be late and she'd promised it wouldn't happen tonight.

"Well, enjoy your night then," he said turning away from her and heading toward his bed. He didn't say anything rude or imply rudeness with a gesture but she felt like she was being snubbed bye his curtness. He hadn't been short with her the first day they met or even when she'd told him about his past. The bizarre tension was sickening, but she couldn't stay to fix it. She would be back in a few hours and they could talk about it then.

"Good night, Mr. Lockhart. Thank you so much, Doris," she said as she put on her cloak and stepped out of the ward. As she walked to the elevator bank, Hermione knew something would have happened if Doris hadn't pushed open the door. She wasn't sure where they were headed but it felt so wonderful to touch and be touched. Hermione tried not to think about how long it had been since she'd been in love with Ron and the feelings and touches that passed between them. It hurt too much to think that she'd not been with anyone since.

Stepping into the Floo she called out, "The Leaky Cauldron" and threw the powder into the flames. She was still thinking about the warm blush on her cheeks when he'd touched her when she stepped out of the Floo and into the warm pub. Summer had passed and fall was quickly taking hold. Logs burned in the fireplace as she looked around to find Harry and Ron already sitting in a booth in the corner. Ginny, George, and Percy sat with them with identical drinks in front of them.

"She's on time," Harry said with a smile and a salute with his glass.

"Oh quiet," Hermione said while she opened her cloak and hung it over a chair. "This coming from the boy who couldn't be on time for classes even with my time turner?"

Harry laughed and acquiesced. He handed her a glass with bubbly brown liquid in it. Hermione cringed, sniffing its contents. Her brows furrowed together before looking expectantly at Harry.

"What is this?" she asked, not taking a drink.

"The Fred Weasley Special, of course," George answered.

"Please tell me that you don't expect us to drink anything called that," Ginny said with a cringe that matched Hermione's.

"Of course I do," George insisted. "Our brother dies and so we must toast him."

"Can't we toast him with something besides this unidentifiable liquid?" Percy asked, joining the discussion.

"Nope," George said, smiling. "Besides, I think you'll like it. I designed it myself."

The whole table looked around trying to figure out who was going to try it first. Finally Percy lifted the glass to his lips and took a tentative sip. When he smiled and gave an emphatic nod, the rest of the table followed suit.

Hermione closed her eyes and delighted at the sensations rolling through her. The drink, whatever it was, had some complex potion work to it to create this. As soon as the liquid hit her tongue, she felt safe and comfortable. Where her mind had been racing with thoughts of Gilderoy, loneliness, and her job, she was now blissfully at peace. It wasn't as if she'd forgotten her problems, they were just left aside for a few moments replaced by the feeling of a blue sky on a warm breezy spring day.

When she opened her eyes, she saw that the table's other occupants were grinning with smiles similar to the one she was sure she was wearing. She looked at George and he looked pretty proud of himself. He sat with his arms behind his head watching his creation at work.

"What is this?" Ron finally asked. "It feels like flying... but not."

"I've been working on it since our last anniversary," he said indicating the table's occupants. "I figured we deserved some time off from our worries."

"How does it work?" Hermione asked.

George smiled at her, "Figures that you would have to know the how's and why's of something like this."

"Of course I would," Hermione replied. "I'm happy, not dead."

"Well, it's almost like a love potion, but I tweaked with the ingredients and the brewing times until I got the result I wanted. With as much as we've got on our plates, the potion couldn't incapacitate the person in any fashion. These meetings aren't exactly secret so I needed the potion to affect the drinker but not take over free will in any way."

"Fascinating," Hermione said, look at her cup, swirling the contents.

"Honestly, George," Percy said staring into his own glass. "This is extraordinary."

"To Fred," Ginny said, raising her glass with a smile.

"To Fred," they said almost in unison before clinking glasses. They met once a month to talk and to toast those who died in battle when the need arose. It seemed only fitting to be together with as much of the Order as possible. Some members chose not to attend but most were on assignment in other places. They had a world to clean up and only so many of them to fix it.

The night went on with toast to those who hadn't made it. With the "Fred Weasley Special" finished and long gone, they'd switched to dinner and regular drinks. By the time they'd gotten around to toasting Collin Creevy, Hermione felt warm all over in a much more alcoholic fashion than earlier in the evening.

"So, Hermione," Ron said, with a tip of his glass to gesture. "What's kept you so busy lately?"

"Honestly," Ginny agreed. "You never have time to visit anymore. I wasn't surprised to see you tonight, but it did make me realize how long it's been since I've seen you."

"I'm helping out at St. Mungo's in their Memory Loss wing," Hermione said generically.

"Until eleven every single night?" Percy asked.

Sometimes Hermione regretted buying a flat right next to Percy. At first, it had been wonderful. They'd spent a few nights a week together, cooking dinner and just talking. Percy was as much her friend as Harry and Ron and they'd gotten each other through some seriously difficult times. On a normal evening she would have noticed the sound of hurt in Percy's voice, but Hermione was more than just a little intoxicated.

"Well, Mom," she said turning to look at Percy with an easy smile on her face. "I'm helping someone recover his memory and it's a lot of work. I'm having to re-teach him everything about magic. It's going really well though, we're working on complex charms now."

"Who is it?" Harry said, taking a bite of the spaghetti still sitting in front of him.

"Can't really say," she lied. "Shhh. It's confidential."

Percy looked at her and realized it was time for Hermione to go home. She'd gone straight from evasive to drunk in five seconds flat. Standing and getting out his wallet, he pulled out money to pay for his part of the evening.

"I have to be going," he said. "I've an early morning tomorrow. Hermione? Walk me home?" he asked, knowing that it would be easier to get her to agree to leave if she thought he needed her. He'd only ever seen her like this once before and it was when she and Ron had broken up. There didn't seem to be anyone in the picture so he had to wonder if the thing that had changed he happened at her new assignment at St. Mungo's.

"Sure, Percy," Hermione said brightly. "I just need to get my cloak and pay my tab."

Ron looked curiously at Percy for a moment. He stood and whispered, "Are you okay?" while Hermione was at the bar paying for her food and drinks.

"I'm fine," Percy whispered back. "I think Hermione's just had a few too many and she's going to need some extra sleep if I'm right."

"I'd say so," Ron said, looking at Hermione with new eyes. "You know what's going on with her? It's not still... you know."

"I don't think it's you, Ron," Percy assured his brother. "I don't know if there's even something on her mind, but she was pretty thirsty tonight."

"It could have been an effect from the potion," George suggested. "I didn't think to test it to see if it caused increased thirst."

"It didn't happen to the rest of us," Ginny said shrugging.

"Keep an eye on her, Perc," Harry said, standing to join his friends. "If she needs anything, Floo me."

"Will do," Percy said as he followed Hermione to the bar and paid the barman. "Good night everyone."

"Good night," Hermione called as she stepped out the door into the street. "You mind just walking home?"

"Not at all. I ate enough to put Charlie to shame," Percy said, rubbing his belly.

Hermione smiled quietly as they walked toward their building. Percy hadn't fooled her for a moment back at the pub. She'd known exactly what he'd been up to but it gave her a way out of the situation without having to explain everything that had happened today. She may be drunk, but she wasn't an idiot and she could probably fool just about anyone but the people she'd been out with tonight.

"Is it okay if we don't talk about it tonight?" she asked, knowing he was waiting for her to speak.

Percy smiled next to her and nodded. She was not one to be prodded. She would come to him when she was ready. This woman had been there for him when he'd lost Penelope and he would be there to listen to whatever she was going through.

"I will be awake tomorrow night if you want to come talk to me though," he offered.

"Thanks," she said with a smile. They walked the rest of the way home in a silence that seemed to fill the air with a crackling electricity. Hermione wanted to talk about what had happened that day but there was something about talking to her ex-boyfriend's brother that just felt a bit off. It was times like these where she regretted not being close with Ginny or Luna. Most of her friends were men and it was hard for them to understand what all of this felt like. To be fair, Hermione had no idea what she was feeling. It made it even more difficult for the men in her life to decipher what was going on in her head.

"Goodnight, Percy," she said, kissing him on the cheek and opening the door to her flat. "Thanks."

"My pleasure," he said.

Hermione watched him walk to his door and gave a small wave when he stepped inside. When he was gone, the feelings she'd been wrestling with during a busy night at the Leaky Cauldron surrounded her. An empty flat is not very conducive to blocking out the things one wants to avoid.

Hermione leaned against her door and sighed. Visions of Gilderoy's brilliant blue eyes floated behind her lids coupled with the look he'd given her before he touched her cheek. It was amazing how much that simple action had meant. She'd been working with him for nearly four months now. This afternoon's gesture was the first inkling that he felt anything for her and she wasn't sure what to do with it. A crush on her end she could blame on still being a bit of a silly school girl suffering from a spot of hero worship. If he was feeling the current between them, she might have to admit that something was actually happening.

Crossing to her bedroom, Hermione took off her clothes and put on her pajamas. As she pulled back the covers and slid into her bed, she knew sleep wasn't going to come easily. Lying on her back, she stared at the ceiling and began to count the swirls in the paint. It was going to be a long night.


	2. Chapter 2

Finally drifting off to sleep around three in the morning, Hermione was grateful for the invention of caffeine when she stepped into St. Mungo's. Not knowing how everything was going to play out, she was nervous as she walked through the enormous hospital. Taking one last sip of her coffee, she let the smell bring her some measure of comfort.

When she opened the door to Gilderoy's ward, she saw him sitting at the desk area they'd set up for the work she'd given him. He looked up at her and it was as if her heart stopped, crawled up into her throat, and started a picket line around her vocal chords. She smiled as she walked in, tossing her empty cup into a trash bin.

"Miss Granger," he said, acknowledging her in a cold tone before returning to his book.

Taking a deep breath and attempting to ignore his reception, Hermione set up the lesson they'd planned to work on today. Gilderoy continued to ignore her as she set her books on his bed and turned to hang her cloak up. The events of the previous night had not been her fault or they wouldn't have been her fault if any wrong doing had happened. Hermione knew things were going to be awkward until they hashed things out, but she simply wasn't ready to get into the "I've had feelings for you for months" discussion.

"Well, Mr. Lockhart," she said, taking her cue from his tone and demeanor. "Shall we get started, then?"

"Of course," he replied, closing his book and putting it on his bed. He stood and walked to where Hermione had set up several glass vials and cork stoppers. His fear of what this lesson could bring him had started, not yesterday with it's confusing events, but when she'd told him of the life he'd led before he'd stolen his own memories. He'd long given up any hope of discovering the events before his accident, but he'd never believed he'd been a villain and a fake. It was even harder to work toward recovering the past when the desire had left you.

Hermione began his lesson as if nothing odd had happened the previous evening. She acted as if he hadn't almost kissed her. Her professional manner pushed onward as she went over the wand movements for extracting memories and placing them in the glass vial. She explained how difficult it was and how mastering this charm would help him with other memory related charms. He tried to listen to her, tried to ignore the movement of her lips and simply fold into his thoughts the lessons she was trying to relay. He tried not to think about how lovely she looked today. He tried to remind himself that he was positively old enough to be her father and that he shouldn't be having dreams about her most nights. He tried not to think of what her skin felt like in those dreams. He tried... and he failed quite spectacularly.

"Hermione," he said, interrupting her directions for wand movements. Her eyes rose from the glass vial to his face. The professional exterior was still there, but with it came a look of hope shining through her gaze. In that hope Gilderoy found the confidence to do what he'd been kicking himself for not doing the night before. Moving a step closer to her, he took her hand and held it between his. "I'm going to kiss you," he said softly.

"Oh," she said lamely as she looked at their joined hands.

"Do you want me to kiss you?" he asked, giving her a moment to decide.

Hermione looked at his face and had to hold back a gasp. He was looking at her so expectantly that it threatened her very breath. His cheeks were tinted with pink as his eyes danced over her lips. Eyes dialated in the beginnings of a new sort of something, she stepped to close the space between them. She'd been the one to initiate every first kiss she'd had in a relationship and she was not about to continue the practice. All three of her serious relationships had ended in heartache and pain, and she wasn't strong enough yet to lose again. Just as she was about to talk herself out of everything all over again, Gilderoy's hands let go of hers and pulled her close to him as his lips softly touched hers.


End file.
